


Paka and Pop

by Sangerin



Series: Denver Collection [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Denver Janeway, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-01
Updated: 2000-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangerin/pseuds/Sangerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mama was telling me about Gran'pa Edward. Tell me about Paka, Daddy!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paka and Pop

**Author's Note:**

> Denver Janeway appeared in my head in late 1999 and hasn't gone away yet. This story is part of the 'Denver Collection'. Denver is approximately five years old at this point.
> 
> Dedicated to my grandfather - the man I used to call 'Paki'. I loved him very much, and will miss him dreadfully.

'Mama, why don't I have a Grandpa?'

Kathryn looked down at her daughter, snuggled up close against her side.

'You know the answer to that, Denver.'

The little girl nodded seriously. 'Because Grandpa Edward and Paka are both dead. But Jin has a real live Grandpa. Can't I have one too?'

Kathryn put aside the bedtime story she had been planning to read. 'Your Uncle Owen is Jin's Grandpa, that's right. But some people don't have grandfathers who are still alive - like you. But you have a lot of other people looking after you, who love you, and who spoil you rotten - just like Grandpa Edward and Paka would have done if they were still alive.'

'I know,' said Denver. 'Like Nanma and Aunt Phoebe.'

'And Uncle Tom, and Auntie 'Lana.'

Denver seemed lost in thought. Then she looked up at Kathryn. 'Tell me about Grandpa Edward, Mama?'

'All right, sweetie. But this is instead of a bedtime story.'

'Okay.'

 

## Pop

'Your Grandpa Edward never actually got to be a real Grandpa. He died before you or your cousins were born. But he loved little children. When he was at home, after your Aunt Phoebe and I grew up, he would always spend time with the neighbour children. They all called him 'Pop,' as though he were their Grandpa. They would sit on his knee and he would read stories to them, or tell them about what it was like to go flying off in space. But mostly he liked to help them make things.

I was always rather jealous of those children. When I was little, he never had time to teach me how to make cornhusk dolls, or to make toys with the offcuts from furniture he was making, or to bake ginger snaps. But all the children loved him for the time he could spend with them. It wasn't much - he would have a week or two off, then go back to Headquarters, or off on a mission for months on end. But it was more time than he'd had when I was little. I guess he decided that he'd make the most of it the second time around.'

Kathryn sighed, and Denver looked up at her. 'Is there more, Mama?'

'Yes, there is, honey…this happened when I was little. I was only about three or four years old - younger than you. It was winter, and it had snowed heavily the night before. My Grandma and Grandpa had come to visit, and I wanted to show them my brand new sled. I loved that sled - we had a hill in our yard that was steep enough to make you feel like you were flying when you went down it. And I loved feeling as though I were flying. So your Grandpa Edward and my Grandma and Grandpa and I went out to this hill. I climbed up to the very top, and lay down on my stomach on the sled. It always seemed as though you went faster that way. I whizzed down that hill at warp speed. The wind was rushing through my hair, the snow kicking up into my face where the rails of the sled plowed through it. I know my face was red from the icy breeze. I have a memory of my Grandparents watching me - I know they were smiling at me, enjoying themselves because I was enjoying myself. And your Grandpa Edward was enjoying himself, too.

Because I was watching them, I didn't see the tree. It was a big old oak tree that had been there for at least a hundred years, and I banged right into it.'

'Did it hurt, Mama?' asked Denver, a worried look on her face.

Kathryn bent down and kissed her daughter's forehead. 'Yes, honey, it did hurt. But I didn't lose consciousness - I just got a bump on my head. Grandma and Grandpa wouldn't let me walk back to the house, and they got all worried about me. They thought I would have concussion. That's what happens sometimes if you get a nasty bump on the head - you can get dizzy, or get really sick. But I didn't. But do you know what Grandpa Edward was doing while your Nanma and my grandparents were looking after me?'

'What?' asked Denver, wide-eyed.

'He chopped down the tree, all the way down to the stump, just because I had run into it when I should have been looking where I was going.'

'But what good would that do?'

'I don't know, honey. But I think it made Grandpa Edward feel better.'

'I'll bet it did,' said a new voice, softly.

Kathryn looked up to see Chakotay leaning in the doorway. She smiled. Denver, who hadn't heard what Chakotay said, noticed her father a moment later. 'Daddy! It's your turn.'

'It's my turn for what, Pumpkin?' he asked, as he came into the room and settled down on Denver's other side.

'Mama was telling me about Gran'pa Edward. Tell me about Paka, Daddy!'

Chakotay looked across his daughter's head at Kathryn. She smiled and scooted down on the bed to lie next to Denver. Both of them looked up at him with their brilliant blue eyes. He sighed and smiled.

 

## Paka

'Paka and I never really got along all that well, Denver. But he was a wonderful man, who cared very deeply for all children, not just for his own.

In the town where I grew up, the entire community looked after the children. I had many playmates, some around my own age, others older and younger. But your Paka was special to all of them. He was the storyteller of the village, the man who passed on the legends of our people to the children, and re-told them to the young people, to remind them in case they had forgotten. It was considered a great honor to be asked to sit around the fire with him at night. He would tell the most magnificent stories - his descriptions were so vivid you could believe that you truly were sitting around a fire with the Ancient Ones, rather than in our settlement.

But what was even more special was to go on an expedition with him. He knew all about the forests, and he loved to teach us about the plants and the animals, and how we all depend on each other for survival. I remember one year, a fire had come very close to destroying our settlement. Only a change in the wind saved the house that I lived in, and the forest around our home was burnt black. It looked as though it were completely dead. My friends and I decided that we should clear all the burnt trees, and turn the land into farms to grown grain, and raise animals to eat. We already had enough farms for the settlement, but my friends and I thought that the forest was gone, and that it would never come back.

But your Paka took us out into the forest to show us how it looked after itself. We walked a long way through the blackened tree trunks. We were walking on black soil, covered by the ashes and soot left by the fire. Other than the blue sky, the only colors we could see were black and gray. The fire had been so hot that all the leaves had been burnt from the trees. We saw animals that had died in the fire, we saw huge old trees, more than a hundred or two hundred years old, burnt black. Everything looked dead.

Paka made us look closely. In between the cracks in the bark, tiny green shoots were growing. They were still so tiny it was hard to see them, but they were there. Little bits of greenery - bits of life.'

Chakotay looked down at his two enthralled listeners. 'We were amazed by this, and my friends decided that the farm idea wasn't so great after all. They managed to convince me that it would be too much work. That was all it took for me to drop the idea.

About a month later, Paka and I went back out into the forest. I was sulking - I didn't like going on trips just the two of us. I thought it was too boring. But we came across one of the big old trees that had seemed dead after the fire. Now it, and all the trees around it, were covered in shoots - the stems a dark red, the leaves a vibrant, young-looking green. The trunk of one of the trees was so covered with these shoots it looked like it was wearing a furry green coat!'

Denver giggled sleepily. 'Daddy?'

'Yes, pumpkin?'

'You do miss Paka, don't you?'

'Of course I do, sweetie. Every day.' Chakotay smiled at Kathryn. 'And I'll always miss him, and I'll always remember him. But I've got you two, as well, now.'

'Good!' said Denver, emphatically. 'Don't ever go away, Daddy. I'd miss you too much.'

'That's nice to know,' replied Chakotay. 'Now, I think it's time you got some sleep.'

''Kay,' she said, and snuggled down. Kathryn got up from where she had been lying next to Denver, and she and Chakotay left the room. Chakotay ordered the lights off, and he and Kathryn stood in the doorway, watching their daughter.

'Despite everything, you really do miss him, don't you?' asked Kathryn.

'It's the same for you,' replied Chakotay.

'I wish he could have seen how happy I am. I wish he could have known you - and Denver. I wish Denver could know her grandfathers. Stories and memories just aren't the same.'

'But when they're all you have,' said Chakotay, kissing his wife gently, 'you make do - and you hold onto those memories tightly.'


End file.
